


Doing It Proper

by EllieSaxon



Series: Up The Seventeen Steps [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, John really appreciates it, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Johnlock Smut, M/M, Sherlock does something sweet and considerate, Top John, bottomlock, unapologetic smoopy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieSaxon/pseuds/EllieSaxon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks after the events of 'Half Empty, Whole Again', Sherlock's recovery is coming along nicely, and John comes home to a pleasant surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doing It Proper

**Author's Note:**

> I promised you a smoopy/smutty follow up, and here it is. Apologies for my poor attempt at porn.
> 
> Not beta'd or brit-picked. Sorry for any errors that I may have missed.

It had been a long, boring day, and all John wanted to do was get home and lie on the couch with Sherlock as he prattled on about one thing or another, maybe watch some crap telly, and just relax. It had been three weeks since Sherlock was released from the hospital, and two since John started taking shifts at the clinic again. Soon John wouldn’t be able to keep Sherlock in the flat and away from active cases, but with Sherlock still recovering but on the mend, John took the opportunity to have a semi-regular schedule, before it was all crime scenes and racing through London.

Entering 221 Baker Street, John wanted nothing more to get up to get up to his own flat and to Sherlock, but he made sure to stop off to say hello to Mrs. Hudson first. It wasn’t just Sherlock he missed in his three months away.

“Oh you don’t need to keep checking in on me, dear.” Mrs. Hudson said, patting John’s arm. “You needed a little time away; I can hardly fault you for that. You’re back, and that’s what matters.”

“Maybe I like hearing about your day.”

“Well that’s sweet of you,” Mrs. Hudson glanced up towards the stairs,”but it’s not me you should be concerned about.”

“Oh god, what did our favorite patient do now?” John sighed.

An enigmatic smile crossed Mrs. Hudson’s face. “See for yourself.”

His mind flooding with all the things Sherlock could have done to their flat, fire, smoke, and water damage paramount, John made his way up the seventeen steps to face whatever his partner had done.

 

Whatever John was expecting, it certainly wasn’t what met him when he walked through the door. The flat had been cleaned, all of Sherlock’s cold cases stacked and ordered, the rug hoovered, the kitchen table cleared of scientific equipment and set for a meal. The entire flat smelled of cooking. And in the middle of the sitting room stood Sherlock, impeccably dressed in one of his best suits, his hair artfully tossed. Seeing as Sherlock had taken to wearing only his pajama bottoms as of late, _“the open air is more conducive to healing, John”_ he’d say with a seductive smirk, the sight of him in the tight purple shirt and perfectly tailored suit, was a bit of a shock.

“Sherlock, what’s all this?” 

“Oh you know, just thought I’d do something nice for a change. I finished with the Lestrade’s latest batch of cold cases, and being trapped in the flat all day, it gave me something to do.” Sherlock replied nonchalantly, bending down to greet John with a tender kiss.

“Mmmm…” John hummed when Sherlock pulled away, his eyes still closed. “Not that I’m complaining, but why? I’m not going to go into the bedroom and find you’ve blown up the mattress, am I?”

“Absolutely not! The bed is in  _perfect_ working order.” Sherlock said, a feigned look of horror on his face.

“Just checking.” John chuckled.

“Honestly, I wanted to do this for you.” The sudden sincerity in Sherlock’s voice made John’s chest ache. “You have had to put up with so much because of me, you’ve gone through so much because of me, and yet you still stay. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you. A clean flat and a home cooked meal is the very least I could do.”

“God I love you.” John smiled, cupping Sherlock’s cheek and leaning up to kiss him. “But love, we’ve been through this, being with you isn’t a chore, I  _want_ this life with you. And every hardship we’ve been through, it’s all been worth it, because they’ve led to this moment: us, together, happy.”

“Well, then this can be, as they say ‘just icing on the cake.’”

“It most certainly is. Did you actually cook?” John asked, looking towards the kitchen.

“Yes, John. Is that really so much of a surprise? I am a chemist by training, and cooking is just edible chemistry after all.” Sherlock huffed; he did always get so adorably exasperated when John doubted his domestic skills. “But don’t worry, Mrs. Hudson picked up all the ingredients. I know how you’d worry if I left the flat just yet.”

“Love, you’re not bound to the flat.” John laughed. “You’re healing well, and your immune system is nearly back to normal. I just want you to be careful and take it easy when you do go out.”

“Good, because I actually did leave for a bit earlier today.” Well, that explained the suit. “I had to pick something up, and I couldn’t trust it to anyone else but me.”

“And that is?” John asked carefully, his heart starting to speed up.

Sherlock walked over to the fireplace and took something out from under the skull, before returning to stand in front of John. “This.” He said, opening the small box to reveal a simple two-tone titanium ring, the center black band contrasted against two flanking silver stripes.

“Sherlock!” John gasped, feeling his eyes start to prickle. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes I did.” Sherlock said softly, slowly lowering himself down onto one knee. “When I did this before, I was in a hospital bed, you hadn’t had a proper sleep in days, I had too much sleep, and we were both in need of a shower. I want to do it proper.”

John could only barely contain a laugh, has he gazed down at the man before him.

“I spent the first thirty years of my life thinking myself incapable of love. I knew I could care for a select few people, my parents, Mrs. Hudson, and even on occasion Mycroft. But actual love, I thought would be lost on me.  And for the first thirty years of my life, that thought never really bothered me. Then I met you, and everything changed. For the first time I wanted to, needed to, put someone else’s needs and desires and happiness before my own. Before, it was only the Work that mattered to me, but then not only did you become part of the Work, but soon you became more important.” At that point, Sherlock’s voice started to catch, but he still continued. “At the pool, seeing you in danger, all I cared about was getting you to safety; the missile plans, the case,  _him_ , none of it mattered anymore. But it wasn’t until I was away that I realized what had happened, that I had fallen unquestionably and inexplicably in love with you. Being apart from you was the worst experience of my life, but knowing that I was keeping you safe,  kept me going, kept me fighting to get back to you.” Sherlock then paused to take a deep breath, before continuing. “Then losing you again because of my own stupidity, made me realize how precious you are, how essential you are to me. And by some miracle I got you back, and I will never, never make the mistake of letting you slip through my fingers again, never let one day pass without telling you how much I love you. You made me realize not only that I was capable of love, but how absolutely essential love is. Loving you has changed me, John, loving you had made me a better man. John Hamish Watson, will you marry me?”

It took a few moments for John to collect his thoughts, but with his vision completely blurred, he found his voice. “I already said yes before. My answer has absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt,  _not_ changed.” He beamed. “Yes, god yes!”

At that Sherlock quickly got to his feet, with far more grace than someone how had undergone major surgery a month prier should, slid the ring on John’s finger, and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss soon turned heated, with John parting Sherlock’s full lips with a sweep of his tongue. He let out low moan at the feel of Sherlock’s tongue meeting his and invading his mouth. They had shared a number of kisses since returning to Baker Street, but none so intense. John could feel the need for Sherlock shoot through his body like lightning, electrifying him.

It was only when Sherlock tightened his hold of John, pulling him flush against him, that John realized just how affected both he and Sherlock were. When the need to breathe became too great, John tore himself from Sherlock’s mouth, gasping for air.

 “A kiss like that, and you’d think you didn’t already know my answer.” He chuckled weakly, his forehead rested against Sherlock’s, his thumb stroking Sherlock’s cheek.

“I knew.” Sherlock hummed, nuzzling John’s nose, peppering his lips with brief kisses. “I just had to solidify it.”

“Of course you did.” And then they were kissing again, John’s hand sliding into Sherlock’s hair to turn his head to the side, allowing for their mouths to slot together, and the kiss to deepen. John running his tongue along the inside of Sherlock’s bottom lip, tasting every bit of him. As he bit down gently on those plump, kiss swollen lips, Sherlock let out a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper, but entirely wanton.

“I have to ask you something very important. And I need you to be completely honest, Sherlock.” John murmured, pulling back slightly so their lips only barely brushed.

“Anything.” Sherlock panted, his hands still desperately clinging to John’s back.

“Dinner. Do you think the food will keep? Do you think we can reheat it later? I’d hate for all your hard work to go to waste.”

“I… I think so. Why?” Sherlock asked, confusion etched across his flushed face. Instead of answering, John just grinned, and slowly started guiding Sherlock through the kitchen, and back toward their bedroom.

_"Oh!”_ realization finally dawning on Sherlock.

 

Once they crossed the threshold of their room, John carefully backed Sherlock up until the back of his legs hit the bed frame, but John held him tight, keeping him upright.

“Now,” John said, his voice low and thick with desire, “if I’m going to marry you, I need to make sure I’m getting a good deal. I need to make sure my fiancé is in complete  _working order_ .”

Slowly kissing along Sherlock’s jaw, John started working open the buttons of Sherlock’s impossibly tight shirt.

Sliding the last button free, John pushed the shirt off Sherlock’s shoulders, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor along with Sherlock’s jacket. For a moment, John just stared at Sherlock’s naked torso. He had seen a lot of it in the past three weeks, but it was different now, all flushed, John’s old dog tags clicking together as Sherlock’s chest heaved for oxygen. Slowly, carefully, John began running his hands up the smooth, warm, skin, feeling the taut muscles contract and relax under his touch. The small sighs and whimpers leaving Sherlock’s mouth, doing nothing to cool the desire coiling in John’s body.

“Your incision seems to be healing nicely.” John murmured, a finger gently stroking the pink scar just under Sherlock’s left ribs. “Does it hurt when I touch it?” He asked seriously.

“N… No.” Sherlock managed to chock out through his gasps and moans. “It’s fine. It’s perfect.”

John took a step back, and taking a hold of his chin, guided Sherlock to look at him. “I need you to tell me if this starts to hurt. I can’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you. Please promise me you’ll tell me.”

“Yes, John. Yes, I promise.” Sherlock nodded, his pupils blown wide. “Now please. One hundred and twenty nine days.” He gasped, pulling John tight against him, claiming his mouth once again. “I’ve waited, please don’t make me wait another second more.”

 

Before he knew it, John’s found himself flush up against Sherlock, kneeling on their bed, both of them in just their pants. Sherlock’s left hand cradled the back of John’s head, as his tongue tasting every part of John’s mouth, his right hand stroking up and down John’s back. It took every ounce of will power for John not to push Sherlock down onto the bed and have his way with him, to let loose all the pent up sexual energy, indulge in every one of his desires. Sherlock was right, one hundred and twenty nine days was far too long to go between touching this man, having him.

Finding his control, John instead guided Sherlock down to the bed, laying him gently on his back. John braced himself above him, gazing down at his lover, his fiancé, his Sherlock. “Are you okay?” He whispered.

“Yes.” Sherlock breathed, lifting a hand to pull John’s head back down, joining their lips once again, the kisses light, tender, loving.

They stayed like this for a while, lips coming together and pulling apart, over and over until John lost track time. Pulling away once more, John started to move down Sherlock’s quaking body, trailing kisses as he went. With every touch of his lips to Sherlock heated skin; his neck, his collar bones, down and across his chest, John could feel Sherlock coming apart beneath him. When John finally reached Sherlock’s stomach, swirling his tongue around his navel, Sherlock let out a cry that sent shock waves straight to John’s groin, and wrapped his long legs around John’s ribs, hands grasping at shoulders and bedclothes alike.

“Ah….  _John_ …Oh god, John… Enough….ENOUGH! I need to feel you… Oh,  _GOD_ ! I need to  _touch_ you!” Sherlock mewled, trying desperately to tug down John’s pants.

_“Anything._ ” John whispered, sitting up. Gently tugging at his hips, John pulled down Sherlock’s straining boxer briefs, before doing way with his own pants. The clothing hadn’t even hit the floor before Sherlock was pulling John back towards his mouth capturing him in a searing kiss.

Suddenly John felt Sherlock’s long legs hook around his hips, causing their naked lengths to finally slide against each other. “ _Oh Christ!_ ” John gasped into Sherlock’s mouth, savoring in the feel of Sherlock’s skin against his own after so long without it.

As if of one mind, John and Sherlock began moving in sync, rocking together, increasing and decreasing the friction between their bodies. Reaching behind him, Sherlock somehow produced a bottle of lube, and pouring a generous amount in his palm, took them both in hand, and guiding John’s hand to cover his, began to stroke up and down.

Rutting against him, and panting in his mouth, John could feel Sherlock start to quiver. He could tell Sherlock was close, so he sped up his hand. “ _Uhhh_ , John! Oh… Oh  _GOD, JOHN_ ! Wait… Wait STOP!” Sherlock cried.

“Are you alright? Are you in pain!?” John panicked, afraid he had let himself get too lost in the sensation and hurt Sherlock.

“I’m fine, no pain.” Sherlock panted, trying to regain his breath. “I just… I just want… I just need…. Please I want to f… feel you inside m… me.” He managed to stutter.

“Are… are you sure, we have all the time in the world.” John said, having to bite back the groan bubbling up into his throat.

“Yes, yes please.” Sherlock begged, finding the lube again and thrusting it into John’s hand. “Please, John. Oh god, please!”

That had to be a record; John had never heard Sherlock say please so many times in one sitting. Popping the cap on the lube, John coated his fingers and began to carefully prepare Sherlock. Sherlock whimpering, and clamping down as each new finger was introduced, before relaxing and moving to take John’s fingers in deeper. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, John was able to brush over Sherlock’s prostate, triggering a shutter and broken off cry. That sound, in conjunction with the sight of John’s new ring brushing against Sherlock, was almost enough to do John in right there.

“Now!” Sherlock moaned. “Please, I’m ready. Oh…  _Oh god_ ! I’m ready!”

John carefully pulled out his fingers, earning himself a whimper from Sherlock, and quickly slicked himself up. Positioning himself at Sherlock’s entrance, John slowly pushed forward, sliding into Sherlock inch by inch. Sherlock’s tight heat clamped around him, causing John to fight back the wanton moan threatening to spill out of him.

“Oh… Oh my god…Oh my  _GOD_ ! Oh  _JOHN_ !” Sherlock cried out when John was finally fully seated, wrapping his legs tightly around John’s waist. John remained perfectly still, giving Sherlock time to adjust to him, simply basking in the connection he so desperately missed.

Finally Sherlock started to roll his hips, murmuring for John to start to move. John kept his movement slow, and gentle, still afraid of hurting Sherlock, over taxing him. Suddenly Sherlock’s arms were snaking around John’s shoulders and into his hair, tugging him down into a passionate kiss.

“I’m ok, John….  _Nuuh_ … I’m ok.” Sherlock breathed, lifting his hips as he met John’s thrusts. “You can… _AH_ ….you can be harder.”

John sped up his pace slightly, hitting Sherlock’s prostate with enough force to illicit wanton moans from the man beneath him. “I love you… Oh god, Sherlock….Oh  _god_ , I love you so much.” John panted, swallowing Sherlock’s cries.

They made love slowly, moving as one, drawing out each other’s pleasures, reveling in the feeling of being as close to one body as possible. All too soon, John felt Sherlock’s muscles start to tighten, and flutter around him. Lifting himself up ever so slightly, John reached between them to grasp Sherlock’s leaking cock, and began to stroke him in times with his thrusts. It only took a couple of tugs before Sherlock’s back arched off the bed, and with a broken yell, spilled over John’s hand. Sherlock’s muscles contracting tightly around him was all it took for John’s mind to go blank, and John was pulsing into Sherlock, pouring himself into the man he loved.

 

Once the aftershocks had passed, and they came down from their mutual highs, John gently pulled out, kissing away Sherlock’s whimper before getting up to walk into the bathroom. Returning thirty seconds later with a damp, warm flannel, John tenderly started wiping up the mess splattered on Sherlock and then cleaned up himself.

“How are you feeling, love?” John asked quietly

“Amazing.” Sherlock sighed, eyes still closed. “A bit sore, but amazing.”

“And your side, your scar?”

“Doesn’t even register.”

“Really?” John asked skeptically, having not failed to notice the slight wince on Sherlock’s face.

“Okay, it twinges a bit. But really, I’m fine. I took some paracetamol before you got home.” Sherlock huffed, finally opening his eyes, and pulling John down to lay with him. “Trust me, John. A slight ache is well worth what we just did.”

“Such a charmer.” John chuckled.

“That’s why you’re marrying me.” Sherlock mumbled, wrapping his arms around John, and tangling their legs together.

“Just one of many reasons.” John smiled, kissing Sherlock’s crown.

“Do you want to eat now? I’m sure it will still taste fine if we reheat it.” Sherlock asked, and John could feel his words move across his chest.

“I’m fine for now, let’s just lay here for a bit.”

Sherlock remained quiet for a long time, and John was starting to think he had fallen asleep, when he heard and felt Sherlock’s low voice rumble against his chest again. “It’s inscribed you know.”

“What is?”

“Your ring.” Sherlock answered. “I can feel you rubbing it against my arm.” He added, sensing John’s question before he had a chance to ask.

John could only chuckle, the man was a bloody mind reader. Then, slipping the ring from his finger, he turned towards the bedside light. Sure enough, etched into the metal inside his ring, were five words.

 

_My Conductor of Light – SH_

“Put it back on me.” John said, handing the ring back to Sherlock who quickly slid it back onto John’s finger with a kiss. “I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

“Really? You had to use my full name?” Sherlock blushed.

“You used my middle name earlier. Turnabout’s fair play.”

“Yeah, but that was funny.” Sherlock grumbled under his breath, before looking John straight in the eye. “I do love you, John Watson, with all my heart.” Sealing his declaration with a kiss, a kiss full of love and devotion.

 

It wasn’t a full two months later that John and Sherlock sealed another declaration with a kiss, this one in front of a small group of friends and family. And this time, Sherlock wore a matching ring that read…

 

_My Light – JW_

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after, well as happily as these two danger addicted adrenaline junkies can be.
> 
> Hope my attempt at writing smut hasn't been too horrible.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. Good or Bad!!


End file.
